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“Cas, I did it again.” Twisting the curled cord of the phone with one hand, and clutching the ear piece anxiously with the other, Sam sighed. He looked down at himself guiltily. Down at his blood covered clothes. Down at his poorly bandaged arm. A tear rolled down his cheek.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Cas promised. In the background, there was some rustling that was probably Cas’ familiar, wood-scented trench coat. “Don’t do anything else. Please.” Nodding, Sam shuffled awkwardly for a second.
“Thank you,” he breathed out, tears dripping from his rounded chin to his faded jeans. He hung up the phone, placing the receiver gently back onto the holder.
Exhaling loudly, he looked down at himself. He was a mess. An absolute mess. There was blood all over his shirt (Not his, Castiel’s) small drips of brown and red ruining the Led Zeppelin logo. He wanted to fix everything, but he couldn’t.
Cas lived a few streets away, but it was late so he’d have to take his brother’s car. Gabe probably won’t mind, wouldn’t even notice. Sam was lucky to have Castiel around. No matter what, Cas would come and help him.
The empty house had shaken Sam. The silence had gotten to him. He couldn’t help it. He cut himself.
His family didn’t know about his self-harm. Sam didn’t know exactly how they’d react, but he was sure Dean would be pissed and his Dad would be disappointed. Cas would never look at him with disgust, he’d always be there for Sam. For that, Sam was eternally grateful.
There was a knock at his front door, and Sam knew who it was. Cas.
Sam opened the front door, revealing an out-of-breath Cas. In his hand was the little green box they’d set aside for incidents like these. It was overstocked with pirate plasters and sterile bandages, so much better than the grubby strip of cloth wrapped around Sam’s arm.
Silently, Cas pushed past Sam and made his way to the bathroom. Sam stood by the door for a minute, until he saw a finger beckoning for him to follow. Dizzily, he stumbled down the hallway to the cramped downstairs bathroom.
“Sit,” Cas urged, pointing to the closed toilet lid. Sam did as he was told and, in anticipation, held out his arm for Cas to see. Cas winced as he pulled back the bandage, gulping before he pulled out antiseptic rub. “Sam, you need to stop doing this.” He shook his head as he dabbed Sam’s arm with the antiseptic.
“I know,” Sam groaned. He hid his face behind his hair, nervous and sort of ashamed.
“I hate seeing you like this,” Cas lamented, dropping the small bottle and reaching over for a clean bandage. “You’re important, you need to stop hurting yourself.”
“I know,” Sam snapped, nearly pulling his arm away. “I know, okay? It hurts you as much as it hurts me.”
“That’s not the point, Sam!” Castiel yelled. “Yes, it hurts me but you’re more important in all this. I love you, Sam Winchester. You are so precious to this world, you need realise this.” He tightened the bandage around the few cuts on Sam’s forearm.
“I’m sorry,” Sam muttered.
“Don’t be, Sam,” Cas replied, patting Sam’s arm. The blood was all gone and Sam was okay again. At least for a little while. “As long as you’re safe, as long as you don’t go overboard.” Nodding, Sam pulled Castiel closer to him and buried his face in Cas’ stomach. He smelt like smoke and pop-tarts.
All would be okay for Sam. Castiel would stay with him for the night, snuggling close to him in the double bed that belonged to Sam. As long as Cas was there, Sam would be okay